


The Journey Home

by RiverEagle



Series: Donnabelle [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Brother-Sister Relationships, Character Death, Female Bilbo, Pre-The Hobbit, Tissue Warning, Young Bilbo Baggins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiverEagle/pseuds/RiverEagle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the journey back to the Shire after their release from their master, Donnabelle and Frerin stop for the night on the northern plains of Rohan when they are met by four men...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Journey Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KyraSif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyraSif/gifts).



> In this story, Donnabelle is 22, which is underage for a halfling (as they come of age at 33).  
>  **~Khuzdul~**
> 
> *The words to the song are from "Sweeney Todd"s song 'Not while I'm around'
> 
> "Azanulbizar" refers to the battle for Moria, where Thorin lost most of his close kin, including Frerin.

Frérin looked down at the small lass that had become in every way his little sister and he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The two of them had been free from their master for two years, and he was in the process of taking her back to the Shire. (Or, he thought more likely, headed to the Blue Mountains where his family was.) They were currently camped on the south-western borders of Rohan, headed toward the gap of Rohan and the Misty Mountains.

“Nadad,” Donnabelle timidly said as she settled her head on his should. Frérin hummed in response. “Will I ever get to see the Shire again?”

“One day,” he answered. “Very soon.”

“How can you be sure?” she asked.

“Because, namadith, we were able to secure our freedom after sixteen years. We are free to choose where we go.” He paused and frowned. Shifting slightly, he looked down at the hobbit relaxing against him. “What’s brought this on?”

“I don’t know if I want to go back. Not if you’re gonna leave me.”

“Oh, namadith, I won’t leave you.”

“But… what about your family? What about Thorin and Dís and Balin and Dwalin? Don’t you want to see them again?”

“One day, I will. But not without you, if you don’t want me to go,” the dwarf responded. Frérin laid his head on top of his little sister’s as his thoughts were drawn back to his long life as a slave. Though he missed his brother, sister and cousins, most (if not all) of them would assume he had perished in the battle of Azanulbizar. Like his grandfather and Fundin. And he had had 126 years to deal with the fact that they probably were _not_ expecting him home. Alive that was.

Because, though he hated to admit it, if his family had known he was alive and was a slave, they would have hunted for him all over Middle Earth.

“I’m scared of what my family will do to me once we get back to the Shire,” Donnabelle admitted suddenly, drawing Frérin out of his thoughts.

He drew her tighter to him and he began to sing a song he’d learnt years before. **~Nothing’s gonna harm you, not while I’m around/ nothing’s gonna harm you, no ma’am, not while I’m around./ Demons are prowling, everywhere, nowadays/I’ll send ‘em howling, I don’t care/I’ve got ways.~**

Donnabelle giggled and buried her face into his chest. Frérin stopped singing as he too, began laughing. “You’re hopeless, nadad.” But she knew that he meant well. Both knew that he’d promised her years before that he would protect her from the anger of their master, but he couldn’t. It had been a youthful hope, nothing more. “But I guess your point still stands: you’re going to protect me while you can.”

He planted a kiss on her forehead. “Yes, namadith. I’ll protect you. To my death if I need to.”

“Please don’t die on me, nadad,” Donnabelle whispered. “I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

“You’re strong, Donnabelle. Stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

She pushed herself away from him and scooted away. “No, I’m not! I’m just a useless, weak, had been slave!”

“Emphasise on the ‘had been’,” Frérin said calmly.

“Don’t turn this into a pep talk! I don’t need one of those!”

The dwarf stood and crossed his arm. “And what do you need, young lady?”

Donnabelle opened her mouth and closed it again. “I want everything to be better. What it would have been like if Mama and Papa had raised me in the Shire. I don’t want to feel like I’m a nobody.”

Frérin licked his lips, wondering how he was going to get the hobbit to calm down. His eyes flickered over her face and he knew that whatever was truly troubling the lass was more than just her fear of returning to the Shire. He’d learnt early on when he dealt with any of Donnabelle’s ‘tantrums’, her ability to hold onto specific features, such as eye colour and hair differentials (sometimes it was hair length, other times it was colour or it was like it was reacting to wind where there was not a drop of wind in the vicinity), fluctuated. And right now, her eye colour was cycling through a deep blue, a stormy green and even a dark brown. The first time he’d seen her change her features (she’d been six at the time), he’d nearly had a heart attack.

But he’d grown used to it, and had even helped her learn to control her abilities as much as he could. Before he could say something to calm the infuriated hobbit down, he heard another voice just outside the circle of their camp.

“Lookie, lookie. What do we have here? A dwarf and… _what_ is that?” A man, taller than their master, came into the firelight. Three others joined him.

Frérin growled low in his throat, stepping in front of Donnabelle to protect her. He wished that he had more than the small knife on his person to protect the pair of them.

“What do you think you can do against four of us?”

“Plenty,” Frérin said, drawing the small knife that was more for hunting than for fighting. “You’re not getting my sister, filth!”

“Oh, aren’t we? How can that unnatural thing be your sister?” The man drew his sword and laughed at the tiny thing that was held by Frérin. “Do you know what we’re going to do, dwarf? We’re going to tie you up, just so you can watch as we take her.”

Donnabelle paled, just as Frérin did. They were going to do _what_ to her? “Mizim! Run!” Frérin called out as he ducked under the first swing of the horse lord’s swing.

And she tried desperately to do what her brother asked. She tried running, only to be stopped by one of the other horse masters. So she did what she’d been taught to do: not struggle. Things always went better for her if she didn’t struggle against any of the master’s punishments. The man forced her to turn and watch as Frérin fought four against one. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as the men managed to disarm her brother and then smile nastily as they ran him through with their blade.

Frérin fell to the ground as soon as the blade was removed, but he wasn’t dead yet. It would be minutes or even longer before he would fall unconscious and finally pass on. 

That got Donnabelle fighting to escape and she was struggling to remember any of the moves that Frérin had taught her. But her mind was shutting down as a response to seeing her brother fatally wounded for her honour. Oh, she knew that they had wounded him enough that no matter what she tried, he would still die. But his death would be slow and oh so painful, for he still was conscious enough to (be forced to) watch what was about to happen.

“I always liked them feisty,” the leader of the horsemen said as he wiped his sword on the ground and sheathed it. He would clean it properly after he and his men had their little fun with the ‘unnatural’ creature. His hands went to his fastener on his trousers and pulled himself out. Looking over at the prone dwarf on the ground, he gave Frérin a leer as he began to work. It wasn’t long before the leader was bearing down on Donnabelle, leaking and ready to breach her. “Here, let me get those clothes of that unnatural creature.” And instead of being gentle, the man tore at her garments, especially those that covered her lower body.

Donnabelle tried kicking, or moving away in any way, but the grip of the men was too strong for her. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she kept murmuring ‘no’ over and over in Khuzdul. There was nothing really that she could do as the man began fondling her in the most intimate of ways. She bit at the man that covered her mouth as she began getting more vocal in her protests.

“Shut the unnatural thing up. She’s ruining the moment.”

It was then that the four men heard a roar and abruptly a giant black bear was in their midst, pulling the men off from Donnabelle, and from Frérin.

The hobbit wasn’t sure of what happened next. Her vision was blurred with tears and shame. But to her credit, her first thoughts when her breathing got somewhat under control was for Frérin. She dragged herself to his body and took a hold of his collar. “Nadad?” she whispered brokenly.

“Namadith,” Frérin choked out. “Don’t let them control your future. Wasn’t… your fault. Try… try for.. forgive them, mizim.” The dwarf’s eyes unfocused as he tried looking at the figure over, trying to remember his sister’s face once more. She was trying so hard to be strong for him and not let her tears fall. He reached up his left hand and brushed her cheek briefly before he lost his strength. “Men lananubukhs menu.”

Donnabelle reached for his hand and pulled it to her face. She watched as the light in his eyes faded and it was only then that she let her tears fall. Pressing his hand to her cheek, she leant forward and pressed her forehead against his. “Men lananubukhs menu, nadad,” she said brokenly.

She remained at his side all night, not even realising that she was half naked, or that there was a giant bear guarding her all night. She wasn’t aware of the drop in the temperature. She didn’t notice when the fire died out.

It was only at first light that she became aware of the eight-foot man that had watched over her and her brother’s body all night. He gave her a nod and introduced himself as Beorn. Then he offered her protection on her way home to the Shire. She only accepted his offer when he helped her set up a funeral pyre and get Frérin ready for his final send-off.

  


It would be weeks later, on the outskirts of the Shire, that she would thank Beorn for all of his help in burning Frérin’s body and bringing his gear with them.

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdul used in this  
> "Nadad" translates as "brother"  
> "Namadith" translates as "little sister"  
> "Mizim" translates as "gem"  
> "Men lananubukhs menu" translates as "I love you" as if you were saying it to a close family member, not a lover.  
> Translations provided by Calenithlon  
>   
> The funeral rites in this passage are in reference to the battle of Azanulbizar, where the dead were too many for the dwarves to carry with them, so the dwarves stripped their fallen kin of all their battle gear and burned the bodies. Information found on: http://askmiddlearth.tumblr.com/post/77760864291/dwarvish-burials


End file.
